Sunday, May 27, 2012

Meme Time: The Power of Four

Meme Time: The Power of Four was created to start something fun in updating our blogs. It also gives our readers a chance to get to know us better. Here's just a bit about me. I copy and pasted the list, put it my own answers, and now I shall tag four other people.

Four Places I have worked:

Whew... that may get me in hot water so I'll say they have all be in the mental health field.

Four Places I Have Lived:

Four Movies I Could Watch Again and Again:

The Sixth Sense
Notting Hill
How to Loose a Guy in Ten Days

Four Television Shows I Watch:

Ghost Hunters
True Blood
Random stuff after my two favorites.

Four Authors I Enjoy:

Nora Roberts
Megan Hart
Sherrilyn Kenyon
Sarah McCarty

Four Places I Have Travelled To:

Too many to list...

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

Four of My Favorite Foods:

Pasta Carbonara
A good steak
Cheesburgers w/fries
Thin crust pizza

Four Places I’d Rather Be:

On the beach with my toes in the sand.
Riding through the country side in England.
Taking a tour of a haunted castle.
Picking wildflowers from a meadow.

Four People I Want to Tag:

Savanah Chase
Karyn Gerrard
Annalynne Russo
Lila Shaw

If you’ve been tagged, make your own list and link back to this post.  Have fun with it and happy Sunday.
Lorraine's link:


Sorry for the delay in posting the winner to the print copy of Master of Mine.  I have had some technical issues, that have now been fixed.

And the Winner picked by Random.Org is:   Comment number 2!  June M.

Congrats! I will be contacting you via email, and you will get your book via snail mail.

Thanks so much to everyone who commented!


Thursday, May 17, 2012


Master Of Mine BDSM Anthology has gone to print. 
To celebrate I will be giving away 1 print copy of the book to one lucky winner!

Here’s what you need to do in order to be eligible to win:
     1.  Be a follower of my blog.

2.  “Like” my author’s page on Facebook James/154331444626603

3. Leave your email on this post along with a little message that you “liked” me on FB.  And tell me why you NEED, WANT, DESIRE a copy of Master Of Mine.
The winner will be announced on May 25, 2012.


Monday, May 14, 2012


Lila Shaw is the pen name for a writer of works of erotica and erotic romance.  She also writes adult fiction (romance, suspense and short stories in all genres) and non-fiction under the pen name of Claire Gillian.
Lila began writing erotic romance and erotica as an offshoot from her mainstream romance writings.  When the love scenes flowed easily from her fingertips (though perhaps a little too hot for mainstream romance)  and were received favorably by her beta readers, she shrugged and said, “Why not?”  Lila was happy to take scenes too spicy for her alter ego off her hands and craft them into something that would appeal to a higher heat-seeking  audience.
Getting past the embarrassment of writing those kinds of scenes wasn’t too difficult.  Establishing a completely separate persona behind which she could hide did wonders at freeing her from a few Puritanical niggles.  Devouring works of her peers helped as well.  Perhaps  having her Sun, Moon and Ascendant in Scorpio made her a natural for writing about sexual love between a man and a woman.
Lila’s erotic writings typically involve strong-willed women with feminist tendencies (hence her use of John Collier's painting entitled Lilith as her icon), and are often playful, sarcastic and even silly.  She believes if you can’t occasionally laugh at the physical aspects of love, you’re taking life far too seriously.
Her published works include All's Fair in Love and War, short stories in the Midnight Seduction and Stockings and Suspenders anthologies, all from Evernight Publishing. As Claire Gillian, her novel, The P.U.R.E. was released in April 2012.
Lila lives in the Pacific NW with her (inspirational) husband and two sons.  She works full time as a finance/operations professional for a large insurance company. 

Only two obstacles block Shelby Donaldson’s path to success at her new job–her sizzling hot supervisor and his freezing cold attitude. Maybe her flirting got a little out of hand at first, but that’s no reason for Mr. Sighs-A-Lot to screw her over in her performance review.
Colin Montoya is not going to fall for Shelby’s sex-in-a-suit brand of temptation. He’s got her number and is not going to dial it, nor is he going to allow Shelby’s philandering brother to marry his baby sister.
After an explosive one-night stand goes awry, battle lines are drawn.  But can the warring co-workers negotiate a cease-fire long enough to realize their romantic fortunes might just lie in each other?

Colin watched Shelby leave, baffled as usual by her flighty behavior. She was the most frustrating woman he had ever met, in more ways than one. Having to work with her for three weeks had stretched his tolerance to the limit. He was grateful to finally be rid of her, the signed performance review in his hot little hands. If only his body felt the same way about her as his head.
He rose from his chair and followed her out. He checked his watch. Nearly five-thirty. Since it was also a Friday, happy hour at the usual location awaited. Good thing, too, because he always felt like a stiff drink after an exchange with Shelby Donaldson.
Shelby sashayed around the corner to her cubicle. Colin couldn’t help but track her hips as they swayed. Exasperated with his unbidden reaction, he made a hard right into his own cubicle and collapsed into his chair. After lingering over a few last minute client details, he organized and stowed his work, then headed out.
At Roscoe's Sports Bar and Grill in the heart of downtown Portland, Oregon, Colin zeroed in on the tiny table a couple of his buddies had staked out near the foosball tables. Pulling up a bar stool, he ordered a beer then dove into the order of nachos that claimed nearly the entire surface of the table. He and his friends caught up with each other, and he shared the reason for his tardiness.
"Isn’t that her over there?" His friend and colleague Allan pointed to a table of giggly women near the bar.
Colin turned and saw several women from his firm, including Shelby.
"Yeah." He spun back around, hoping she hadn’t spotted him.
"Which one is she?" his other friend, Christian, asked.
"She’s the one in the red sweater with long dark hair parted on the side, big hoop earrings with these stupid cats hanging from the bottom, sinister blood red talons for fingernails. You can't miss her if you look for the pall of obstinacy that surrounds her, sort of like Pigpen from Peanuts with his cloud of dirt."
"The one with the nice rack?"
"I hadn’t noticed." Colin feigned disinterest, struggling to keep all inflection from his voice.
“I guess you were too preoccupied with her pus – kitties.” Allen slapped him on the back, and both friends guffawed.
If Colin were being honest, he’d have to admit that not much about Shelby escaped his attention – hazel eyes that danced with amusement at the oddest things, a laugh that contrasted sharply with her delicate features in its bawdiness. And yes, she had a nice rack, as well as nice legs and a tight little body she obviously pampered. Every square inch of her was designed to distract and lure a man to his doom. Even her infectious laughter, which cut through the din of the bar, got to him. It always had, but that lethal package was marred by a personality made of piss and vinegar when she didn't get her way. Given the inappropriateness of dating a co-worker, especially a subordinate, he was almost grateful for the fatal flaw.
Colin escaped to the bathrooms to shut out the mirthful sounds. On his return, he met Shelby in the narrow hallway. They did the obstacle dance with each other before he stopped and stood to one side. As she nodded then passed, he got a whiff of her perfume, the same scent she wore every day. Over his shoulder, he watched her walk away before he continued back to his table, shaking his head. He absolutely hated how she turned him upside down.

Social Networking links:


Wednesday, May 9, 2012


Adonis Devereux is two people made one. He grew up in Michigan
and in rural Indiana, a Midwestern boy with a passion for story. She
was rootless, a Virginia native who lived in London, Paris, and Rome
before her parents settled just outside Tokyo. Like him, stories
burned in her. They met in university at a poetry reading, and their
love story continued into marriage, graduate school, and half a dozen
children. Now he teaches at a Japanese national university, and she
teaches children to invert fractions and decline Latin nouns, all
while researching ancient Roman and medieval recipes for their novels.
Together, they are Adonis Devereux. They are pleased to write for
Evernight Publishing!

Where we are:

How to purchase:

Evernight Publishing –

All Romance eBooks

Barnes and Noble –

1 Place for Romance


Nevia is the daughter of the First House of Nirrion, but though she is both a powerful elemental mage and a cunning political mind, she is her father's property. She is promised to Melenius, the only other noble elementalist in the city, but she is not certain she approves of her father's choice. She has a stronger will than anyone has ever given her credit for, and she is determined to find and keep the love of the only man who can conquer her heart of earth and flame.

Melenius caught Nevia by the arm and pulled her into a curtained alcove.
“We will be seen,” Nevia whispered.
Melenius shook his head. Cena was due to begin in a few minutes, so he had to work quickly.
“This won’t take long.” He produced the anal plug he had shown her on their honeymoon.
It was Nevia’s turn to shake her head.
“Yes,” Melenius said. He pulled out a vial of scented oil from his small shoulder bag. Nevia’s frosty eyes widened, and he smiled in his airs at her coyness. He poured the oil over the plug, then rubbed it around the head and down its length. “Turn around.”
Nevia did so, but she kept her eyes on her husband. Melenius had never seen anything sexier than his beautiful wife looking over her shoulder with fear and anticipation trembling in her elements as he hitched up her dress. Her fine, white ass was just what he wanted, and his cock hardened. He considered taking her right there, but the sound of music coming from the atrium made him think better of it. The entertainment had arrived. Dinner was imminent, and they would be missed if they were not punctual.
Melenius dabbed a bit of oil on the rosebud of Nevia’s anus and rubbed it around with his thumb. Nevia moaned.
“Quiet!” Melenius’s tone was half serious, half mirthful.
He pressed the tip of the lubricated plug against her ass and slowly applied pressure. He did not at once break her wall, and he was surprised at her body’s unwillingness to allow entry. With a stronger but still gentle push, he felt the pop as the plug slipped into her back passage.
Nevia’s knees buckled, but she did not collapse. The temperature in the alcove plummeted, and though Melenius knew her fires were stoked, she fixed him with an icy glare.
Nevia stood and let her skirts fall back into place. “You dare toy with the ass of an Akara?” She raised her hand to slap Melenius, but he caught her by the wrist.
Melenius lightly bit that wrist as he tweaked her nipple with his other hand. “Now, go be a good girl, and eat your supper.” He opened the curtain and slapped her ass on the way out.
Nevia continued to murder him with her eyes, but her elements betrayed her increasing desire. He sensed her laughter on his winds.
Cena was an elaborate affair, much more so than Melenius would have expected for just a one-night stay in a provincial town. As exotic, half-naked slaves from far-away lands juggled fire sticks before them all, Melenius turned to Judal the Younger.
“I wonder, why all this?” he asked. He popped a fresh, green olive in his mouth.
Nevius, reclined on one elbow, sipped his mulled wine and answered without taking his eyes from the entertainment. “We are returning from a great victory. Though Belamal presses forward, there will be glory for us upon our return to Nirrion. Why not celebrate a little? This is my father’s villa, after all.”
“Fair enough.”
“Enjoy yourself, Firin,” Nevius said. “You and my sister are saviors of the republic.” Nevia’s couch was situated close to his so that their heads would be near each other for conversation. He leaned over and kissed her brow.
Melenius, on the other side of the low table laden with rich food, watched this sibling exchange, knowing that her ass was plugged, that her cunt was probably wet as spring rains.
Nevia betrayed nothing; she could not to her brother, anyway, but neither did her elements. She was cool, collected, and calm. Melenius nodded in her direction, raised his cup in a silent toast to her, and drank its contents. A slave refilled his cup at once. Nevia, playing at human expressions, narrowed her eyes at him. Melenius almost choked on his next drink.
Radish salads and oysters gave way to hot-boiled goose and songbirds with asparagus. Between the appetizers and the main course, clowns had come to re-enact the battle of Vieta. The actor who pantomimed Belamal wore comical armor, and his gold-painted face twisted in all manner of melodramatic expressions.
Nevius ripped hot, juicy meat from the bone with his teeth. “Belamal Triumphant, to be sure.” His mouth was half-full of goose. “Too bad Garalach isn’t here. He could’ve made your job in Vieta easier.”
Melenius felt the instant drop in temperature, and the braziers that burned around them dimmed.
“More wood.” Nevius snapped his fingers at the nearest slave.
Nevia did not look at Melenius. Her eyes were fixed on the small plate she held on her lap. The name of Garalach clearly upset her, and Melenius wanted to go to her, to hold her and remind her of how he had been deceived. He had never stopped loving or wanting Nevia. It had not been his intention to betray her.
But Nevia would not return his glance.
The sun disappeared from the sky, and a cold wind blew through the peristyle and into the atrium.

Friday, May 4, 2012


Author Bio
Nichole Severn graduated with a degree in psychology from Utah Valley University and a BA in English Literature from Nevada State College. She is an active PRO member of Romance Writers of America and a member of Mystery Writers of America. Her stories are filled with edge-of-your-seat-suspense, psychological trauma and bad guys readers love to hate. If she’s not writing, she’s snowboarding, rock climbing or buying her husband popcorn at the movies. She resides in Las Vegas, NV, and can be contacted through her website, Facebook, Goodreads, Blogspot and Twitter.

White Trash Beautiful:
Trey Aston is hiding from the mob.

Desperate to save life, she sells her body in order to make the monthly payments her
father owes the mob, but when Trey discovers he hasn’t been making the payments, she’s
forced to turn to the one man she hoped never to see again for help.

Deputy Luke Johnson refuses to acknowledge his high school sweetheart is a prostitute
and is determined to make Trey see it for herself. Until she starts treating him as a client.
His ability to know right from wrong is challenged and he isn’t the only one who’s
noticed. The force doesn’t have his back where Trey is concerned, leaving him to fight
against them for a criminal.

The Camino Family is out to make her pay, but what really has Trey on edge is the fact
she’s fallen for the deputy who wants her behind bars.

            Rough hands ripped Trey Aston from the car. She laced her hands behind her
head as she’d been instructed with indifference. She’d been through all of this before.
            There were no surprises left for tonight. “Hi, Tucker,” she said with a smile.
            Officer Tucker smiled back, but left her for his partner to question. In clipped
tones, he ordered her john to get out of the driver’s seat.
            “We weren’t doing anything!” her client shouted, but wouldn’t move without
zipping up his pants first.
            Big mistake.
            He didn’t have a chance to move before one of Parkvista’s finest threw him face
down onto the pavement. Tucker had the cuffs around her john’s wrists before the man
could even get his breath back.
            She barely gave him a glance as the red and blue lights crossed her vision, their
movement almost hypnotic. She should have been more careful, should have known the
gas station wasn’t a good place to take care of business. Wisps of frigid North Dakota
air swept under her ragged, black, leather skirt and under the wife beater tank top. A
shiver ran down her spine. It sure as hell hadn’t been the snow that brought her back. The
whiskey did nothing to keep her warm.
            “Trey, what the hell are you doing here?” Tucker’s partner asked. In a town
occupied by less than two thousand citizens, everyone’s voice sounded familiar, but this
one had a history of sending heat straight between her legs.
            Trey tried to keep her breathing even as Officer Luke Johnson confronted her.
            Every memory of him flashed across her mind when he settled in front of her, and the officer’s uniform only made it worse. She’d ripped those buttons off countless times
during their days together, ran her hands over each abdominal muscle. Now, it seemed
she’d never have that chance again. Cops and prostitutes didn’t exactly make the perfect
            She couldn’t answer save for a curse that escaped her lips. He knew exactly what
she’d been doing. Her hair most likely told the whole story along with the fact that her
skirt had hiked itself up around her waist. Heat began to rise up her neck in frustration.
            She’d worked hard to avoid him. Now, however, she had nowhere to run. Trey’s
heartbeat sped, her eyes darting left and right for a way out.
            “Where are your condoms?”

White Trash Beautiful is available from these vendors:

Barnes & Noble

Tuesday, May 1, 2012





Things Are Changing

Hi, everyone. Thank you for taking the time to stop by and reading the last post on this blog. Don’t worry, though, I’m not disappearing...