Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Feeling Lucky?

I am so excited to announce that my pub sisters and I, the ladies of Love, Lust and Laptops are doing a St. Patrick's Day-related freebie event! We have all penned short stories about a male strip club in NY called Lucky's. Each writer has chosen a character who either works or deals with this club in some way: exotic dancers, body guards, paranormals and regular folk.

We will be showcasing these freebies on the Love, Lust and Laptops site from March 11-22. All you need to do is sit back, visit us and enjoy some very sexy, free literature!

You can read more about it at our Coming Soon page:

I hope to see you there!

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Ann Gimpel...Destiny's Shadow!

Well, anyone who knows me or has read my books knows I have a thing for blond men.

So imagine my delight when I spied Ann Gimpel's book Destiny's Shadow for the first time. Pure titillation! Is this not the most beautiful cover you've ever seen? And guess what? Ann Gimpel is one of my Liquid Silver Books pub sisters, and she is good.

Please help me welcome Ann as she gives us a sexy peek into her new book Destinys's Shadow.

Destiny’s Shadow

By Ann Gimpel



Publisher: Liquid Silver Books

ISBN: 978-1-93176-135-2 

Genre: Paranormal Romance 

A ranger for the U.S. Park Service, strong, competent Moira Shaughnessy is in serious trouble. Fleeing from her cheating husband, a Native American shaman, she stumbles into the arms of a man she never thought she’d see again. He hurt her once by choosing his druid heritage over her. Can she take a chance on him now?  

Pursuing very different motives, both men follow her deep into the backcountry. Moira is caught in the crossfire between Celtic magic and Native American shamanism. A freak blizzard compounds her problems, taxing her survival skills to the max. Against the specter of almost-certain death, the sweetest, purest love she’s ever known rises to the fore, engulfing her in unbelievable passion.



Moira Shaughnessy’s booted feet hit the ground in front of the Family Medicine Clinic. Slamming the door of the dusty white Park Service pickup, she considered ignoring her boss’s orders, peeling out of the parking lot, and heading for the Baxter Pass trailhead. She had a crew to oversee, goddammit. And a work project to complete. But her boss, John, had been painstakingly clear, both yesterday at Park Headquarters in Three Rivers, and just ten minutes ago on the sat phone. Granted, he’d been far more pointed on the phone.

“It’s not a suggestion, Moira,” he’d growled. “This is a directive—from me. I want to hear from someone with MD after his name before I authorize you to head up that work detail. Do not set one foot on that trail before you receive my orders, e-sign them, and e-mail them back to me.”

“But that’s usually a formality—”

“Not this time. No buts. I made you an appointment at the clinic in Bishop that clears some of our crews. They’re open until six. I already lost two rangers this summer in the Pinecrest fire. That was two too many in my book, so get your butt into that clinic.”

Moira had thought she could avoid dealing with the whole mess by leaving the office early yesterday and taking one of the northern passes over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, but John had tracked her down.

Phooey. I ran, but guess I couldn’t hide…

It was downright annoying that her boss needed a doctor to reassure him she wouldn’t collapse or something in the backcountry. For the briefest of moments, she felt like pounding her fist into the nearest tree—then she pulled herself together. Nothing was wrong with her, except her slimy, cheating husband. Sure, she’d lost a few pounds since she’d moved out, but she hadn’t been all that hungry.

Problem was John remembered similar struggles from years ago when she’d first started working as a park ranger. She hadn’t eaten enough then, either, and had gotten far too thin. Just her luck, he’d been overseeing a backcountry work detail when she’d gotten woozy and fallen off one of the mules.

Understanding surfaced. Her boss cared about her. That wasn’t a bad thing. The anger bled out of her with a whoosh.

“May as well get this over with,” she muttered. Moira walked briskly to the clinic, pushed the door open, and went to the counter.

“Yes?” A young woman with dyed red hair looked up from her computer screen with eyes so green she had to be wearing colored contact lenses.

“Moira Shaughnessy. I think you’re expecting me. My boss called from Kings Canyon-Sequoia Park Headquarters.”

The receptionist clicked a few keys. “Your insurance card, please.”

Moira blew out an impatient breath. She dug through her fanny pack for her wallet, extracted the plasticized Blue Cross card, and handed it over. “I’m really in a bit of a hurry—”

“Here’s your card back.” The clerk gestured at the nearly full waiting room. “The doctor will be with you as soon as he can. He had a full schedule before he agreed to work you in.”

“Is it okay if I go outside for a few minutes? I need to lock my truck. I, uh, didn’t think I’d be in here for very long.”

“Sure. So long as we know where to find you.” The phone trilled. The woman picked it up, Moira obviously forgotten. “Family Medicine, how may I help you?”

Moira paced up and down the parking lot. Fall had turned the aspen trees lining Bishop’s streets to shades of red and gold that were really quite striking, but all she could think about were the minutes ticking by. It was twelve miles from the trailhead to the top of the pass, and a couple more to where her trail crew was. Leaving today would be foolhardy at this point. She’d never even make the pass before night fell.

“Damn it!” She glanced at her watch. How long was this going to take anyway?

“Ms. Shaughnessy?” A man’s voice sounded from behind her.

She spun, surprised out of her funk. And stopped dead. “Tim?” Moira stared at the tall, rangy man with long, white-blond hair and ice-blue eyes. He was dressed in teal scrubs and sandals with a stethoscope draped around his neck. A broad grin split the clean planes of his face. She’d forgotten how heartbreakingly beautiful he was.

“I saw the name and hoped it was you.” He held out a hand, but she felt frozen in place. “After all, how many Moira Shaughnessys could there be?”

She just stood there, flabbergasted. What were the odds? She hadn’t seen Tim O’Malley since they’d both graduated from U.C. Davis. When she realized her mouth was hanging open, she shut it with a snap.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” One corner of his mouth turned down in an expression she remembered all too well.

“It’s just … I mean I never expected…” She felt warmth rise from the open neck of her buff-colored uniform shirt. Heat suffused her face until she was certain every freckle was outlined in bright, living color.

“Hey, mo ghrá. I know we didn’t split up under the best of circumstances…”

“No shit. And you can skip the beloved part.” A familiar anger stirred, but she batted it aside.

“Moira, I’m sorry. I was sorry then, and I still am.” He sounded so sincere, it tugged at her heartstrings. Part of her wanted to believe him, and part of her was afraid to.

About the Author


Short Bio:


Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent.  Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing.  A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Three novels, Psyche’s Prophecy,  Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press publications available in e-format and paperback. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.


@AnnGimpel (for Twitter) 

 Thanks for being here, Ann!

Tuesday, 19 February 2013

Lea Griffith...Retrieval!

I am so pleased to welcome Lea Griffith today! Yay! Lea is a talented writer and Liquid Silver Books pub buddy! Lea has written an interesting post on reactions to romance we can probably all relate to, and she has a hot new sci-fi romance called Retrieval. So stick around some and please welcome Lea!

She Writes WHAT?


First, a big thanks to Rosanna for having me today. I am excited to be here sharing a little bit of me with you and your readers.


As usual, when it comes to blogging I struggled with a topic and then inspiration struck when a good friend of mine asked me a certain question. The residual effects of that question left me pondering about exactly what our readers, friends and families think of romance writers.


Now this particular person and I have been friends for a long time though we don’t talk often. She’d heard some news about me and wanted to find out for herself if it was true. There is no accurate way to portray the conversation without a re-telling, bit by bit.


The conversation went a little something like this:

(For the sake of anonymity we’ll call my friend, well, we’ll call her Friend)


Friend: *gasp* “Are you a romance writer?” (It’s important to note here that she genuinely gasped which made me snicker, because, c’mon—I write romance, I don’t have Chlamydia with a topper of gonorrhea.)


Me:  “Why, yes. Yes, I do write romance. Hot like fire romance. Why?”


Friend: *coughs* “Well, what do your, you know, your children think about that?”


Me: “They think it’s awesome. They’ve told their friends and I’m like the Queen of the Written Word now.” (Seriously, my kids have told all their friends—they’ve bragged about their mom who is a published author and could care less that it’s romance I write)


Friend: “Oh my God! You let them read it? I’ve seen your website—you write smut!” (There was this weird clicking I could hear over the phone. I think it may have been her dry throat opening as closing as she struggled to breathe around her horror.)


Me: “Of course, I let my, 12, 13 and 15 year old read my borderline erotic romance. Who wouldn’t? Would you like for me to forward you a copy for your kids?”


At that point, I could literally feel my friend’s desire to hang up. And at that point, I could’ve cared less. Really? She had not just asked me if I let my 12, 13 and 15 year olds read my romance novels? Had she lost her mind and more importantly, how in the name of all that’s Holy had we ever become friends? The anger was brewing in my gut, but I just couldn’t stop baiting her.


Me: “Wait, you already have a copy, right?”


Friend: “No, I don’t have a copy and I sure wouldn’t let my kids read it if I did. I can’t believe you let your kids read that…” (She trailed off and finally, I’d had enough)


Me: “To be honest with you, Friend, I haven’t really let my kids read it. They’re too young I couldn’t resist messing with you a little as you went off on your holier-than-thou rant. But let me tell you something, I will let them read it when I feel they’re old enough to understand the adult, mature dynamics between a man and a woman. I poured pieces of myself into that book and it’s something I’d not only let them read but that I’m PROUD of. Damn right, I’ll let them read it—I’ll even give them a FREE copy just because they’re my kids!”


There was silence at that point and I like to think she’d realized she’d upset me, but I didn’t hold out any great hope for this. The conversation ended shortly after my outburst.


My hope in sharing is simply this: Romance authors are normal, every day people who put their pants on one leg at a time. We have jobs, families, regular lives. We go to the grocery store, do laundry, take our kids to cheerleading or soccer—we even go to church if we’re so inclined. We engage in the same activities as every other person on God’s green earth does, we just happen to write love stories.


Now, I don’t know many who writers who would let their adolescent children read their writing but the thing is, my friend knows me. Had she taken even one second to see past the words ROMANCE WRITER, her assertion would never have happened. She let the fact that I write romance blind her to anything else. As if romance was a dirty word. And then she called it smut, which just pushed my button. I’ll share a little secret here with you:  she and I used to swap paperback romances when we were younger. So where all the snobbishness came from, I have no idea.


Bottom line, I write what’s in my heart, what my characters give me. Romance is some of the most honest writing I’ve ever encountered and I both read and write it because at the heart of the stories—underneath any sexual content—is the truest emotion any of us could feel … love.


When you speak to a romance author remember that they are amazing people with amazing stories. There may be sex, eroticism or heat that makes you blush between the pages of their books, but they have brains and hearts and *gasp* moral codes. So if you have a friend who writes romance—give them a high five or a hug or buy their book in support. Don’t ask inane questions about whether they let their children read their stuff—you know these people or you wouldn’t call them friend.


So this ended up being a pretty easy post. I got to vent a little and ended up kinda high-fiving myself for not going ballistic. My friend eventually apologized and told me she bought my new release, Retrieval. We kissed and made up like all good friends do but I will forever tease her about this conversation. We’ll keep it between you and I that a tiny evil part of me wants to give her oldest daughter a copy of one of my books for graduation. We shall see… LOL!


Now go high-five your favorite author and tell her I said to do it. And keep reading!


Rosanna? Thank you so much for having me. I brought a little excerpt of my new scifi romance release, Retrieval. I’m sure Sebastian and Skylar don’t care if you share it.


Skylar is the hunted. Fashioned for the sole purpose of destruction, she has spent her entire life running from the evil scientist who created her, her father. When a team of retrieval experts hired by her father track her down, neither Skylar nor the team’s leader is prepared for the magnetic attraction that will not let them go. In the midst of danger, with their lives on the line, they forge a bond so tight only death could break it. Together they will fight an egomaniacal scientist as well as their explosive desire for one another to discover what true power is.



The woman was a complete surprise. If he’d had proof that his objectives were capable of doing what he’d been told they were, Sebastian would’ve let this entire mission pass. Realist that he was, he’d told himself nothing like what Dr. Dolan Smythe-Ward had told them was possible. Surely not from the petite, extremely sexy woman he’d just seen.

Damn if she hadn’t given him and his men the slip. One minute she and her sisters had been in the hallway, and the next they, or rather a pretty picture of them, were boarding the elevator. Neither he nor his men had been able to move to catch them. She hadn’t restrained them physically. Oh, hell no. He could’ve fought that. She’d prevented him from being able to command his body to movement. That was unacceptable. His men would want to discuss it later. He felt a headache inching its way up the back of his skull. He was disgusted with the entire situation.

She’d stopped him in his tracks, and that was before she’d looked at him in the cafeteria like she wanted to inhale him and dive in for seconds. Nah, it’d happened weeks ago, the first time he’d seen her picture while making the decision to take this job.

Damn! When he’d seen her walk into the lunchroom, his entire body had gone on alert. Deep inside of him, need had taken root. It was the closest he’d physically been to her, and he’d not been prepared. Lust of that magnitude was beyond his scope of experience.

She was short, no more than five feet two inches. That put her more than a whole foot shorter than he was. One look into her eyes, and he’d wanted to stand over her, protect her from the world that was fast closing in on her and her sisters. Was she in danger now? Yeah, she’s in danger. She just stopped your ass cold. She can probably take care of herself.

Fine-boned, creamy golden skin and deep auburn hair that held shades of the darkest night and the noonday sun, she surpassed beautiful. Her eyes, slightly upturned like a cat’s, were the purest whiskey-gold color he’d ever seen on a person. Her mouth was a perfect coral-pink bow, and when she’d licked her lips after drinking that damn juice earlier, he’d almost lost his mind. She was lush, curvy in all the right places, and she loved to laugh. Out of all the things that attracted him, it was the woman’s laugh that kept him hard and up all night. Through the bugs they’d placed outside her residence, he’d listened to her talk to her sisters for hours. They argued, debated, and made jokes. Her laughter gutted him, but at the same time it was the ultimate high.

It made him uncomfortable. She made him uncomfortable. There was something about this woman that drove him to another level of awareness. When their eyes met earlier, and she’d begun moving toward him, he’d felt an inexplicable pull toward her. The want had been a textural strand between them. It had taken his entire fifteen years of combat training to keep him rooted in his seat. He’d wanted to meet her ass halfway, tackle her to the floor, and claim her—for hours. It’d been a really close thing. His control had been seriously tested.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose objectivity. He’d much rather be on the trigger end of a gun than looking down the barrel of one. She boggled his mind. Maybe he’d be better off just calling quits on this job right now.

He’d innately known that the women remained in the corridor. His neck had prickled, and his gut had tightened. If he were a betting man, he’d have laid odds that Morrissey, Bleak and Rover had felt them too. But with an inability to actually see them, he could only get himself ready for tracking them down. He’d felt her turn back toward him, and his entire body had tingled for a few seconds before her presence retreated. He really did not need this crazy shit in his life right now.

He and Rover made their way to the exit to begin the hunt. God help them all when they met up again. He wouldn’t allow her to leave him a second time.


Author Bio:


Lea Griffith began sneaking to read her mother’s romance novels at a young age. She cut her teeth on the greats: McNaught, Woodiwiss, and Garwood. A firm believer that love makes the world go round, she still consumes every romance book she can put her hands on, but now she writes her own.

Lea lives with her husband and three teenage daughters in rural Georgia. Two dogs, a cat, and a beta fish named Coddy George complete a family that is always in motion. When not working at the EDJ, she’s usually at her keyboard, using every spare second to write. Shifters, artificial intelligence, and gene splicing, oh my! Nothing is off-limits when it comes to her writing.



Retrieval book links:





Thursday, 14 February 2013

E-Novelist Romance Fest '13 - Blog Hop! on E-Novelist!

Hi everyone and Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm so pleased to be part of the excellent group of authors who network on E-Novelist. Have you checked them out yet? Just click on this link for more info and a way to talk to some awesome authors.

As part of E-Novelist's Romance Fest, I was asked if I could blog about love.
This is not difficult for me, as I spent my formative years falling in love with a new boy every week.

It all started at the age of 8. I had a crush on an older boy named Brian and followed him around everywhere. It was truly sad. He was always looking over his shoulder at the little girl chasing him around the schoolyard with puppy dog eyes!

Oh, and then there were the three boys I adored in grade 7. John, Jake and Paul (names have been changed to protect the identities of the long-suffering). I went from one to the other...never allowing my young to flourish in any way, you understand. I merely longed for them all at a distance. Fickle me.

To say nothing of the mass of male humanity that I lusted after in high school. I had a new crush regularly. Blond boys, brunette boys, boys who had no idea I existed. I loved them all, and none loved me in return. Oh, I had a boyfriend or two, but none were my grand passions. I experienced unrequited love on a weekly basis.

And you know what? It was probably good for me. It turned that love-starved girl into a writer of erotic romance. Talk about vindication! Now I can pair my awkward heroines with beautiful, perfect men whose only flaws are being a little too macho at times and loving their women too much.

I can deal with that!

Make sure you visit E-Novelist today for the Romance Fest at:

In the mean time, please feel free to check out my newest paranormal romance Sunburn, starring another perfect immortal male. Greek god Apollo is the star of this show!


Patience O’Conner is a travel blogger who lives for her work. Her dedication to her readers brings her to the famed Helios Resort in Mexico, a locale that stuns her with its beauty but at which she suffers from some very strange accidents.

Luckily, hunky resort bartender Apollo Delos is always there in the nick of time, a malcontent guardian angel. Apollo stuns Patience again and again with his life-saving abilities, to say nothing of his smoldering looks and apparent desire to keep her alive.

Before long, Patience wonders if there is more to the sexy bartender than mixed cocktails and insane first-aid skills. Something strange is happening at Helios and Apollo doesn’t want to talk about it.

Can Patience open herself up to this enigmatic man, even though she is terrified to be vulnerable again? And can Apollo recover from an eternity of hurt and learn to trust once more? They must both decide before Death comes calling.

Thursday, 7 February 2013

Lisa M. Owens...If Only!

I am so pleased to welcome fellow Liquid Silver Books author Lisa M. Owens today!

Lisa has written a sexy paranormal entitiled If Only, and this one looks right up my alley!
It's about being able to fix past mistakes, and mistakes coming back to haunt you. I can wait to learn more.


What would you do if you had the opportunity to go back and relive your greatest mistake?

Five years ago, Bree Sexton walked out on her fiancé and into the arms of a charming and handsome stranger. She has regretted her decision ever since. Instead of a fairy-tale marriage, her “prince” shattered her dreams and her spirit with physical violence and emotional cruelty she barely escaped.

She then mysteriously wakes up in bed with the fiancé she loved and left, the life she’d dreamed of now a reality, until her cruel ex-husband reappears to destroy her new life. But what is real, and what is make-believe? Is she really getting the chance she has always dreamed of? And when it is all said and done, will she finally end up with the man she has always regretted leaving? Or will she wake up to discover herself alone?

Bree stood there for a minute, watching as he walked out of her life. She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she had married Scott instead of Bryan. How would her life have been different? Would she have had children by now? Would she and Scott still be together, after all this time? Those thoughts and more weighed heavily on her mind as she headed out of the bar. It had begun to snow, and she wrapped her coat even tighter around her slender frame. She looked around, but there was no one to be found. She couldn’t help herself; she stuck out her tongue, a childish impulse she couldn’t ignore, and then laughed out loud in spite of herself.
She looked both ways before attempting to cross the street. Not seeing any cars, she began to make her way across. Bree was walking cautiously when one of her high heels slipped on a patch of ice. She could feel herself falling, and her breathing quickened as she began to panic, wishing she had waited for her friends before venturing off on her own. One shoe flew off as she landed, her head striking the curb. A sharp pain racked through the back of her skull, causing her to cry out. The last thing she saw was Scott’s face swimming before her eyes, and then her world went black.
Bree awoke to a man nipping gently on her earlobe, his tongue stroking the delicate curves. His hot breath blew into her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine. She slowly opened her eyes as a man’s hand stroked her upper thigh, and she sighed happily.
Ooh, I must be dreaming. And it was such a delicious dream, too.
The man’s hand traveled up her thigh and then encircled her flat stomach. Out of the corner of her eyes, Bree could see a dark head pressing against her abdomen. Then she shivered as a tongue laved her belly button, going in and out erotically, making her feel as though her body was on fire. Bryan had never made her feel like this, and she hadn’t even looked yet to see who this stranger was! But she was only dreaming, so what difference did it make?
His hand continued traveling north, lovingly caressing her skin. He reached for her aching breasts, pressing her nipples roughly before he lowered his mouth to suckle them, first one, and then the other. Bree arched in anxious response to his touch. She longed to see his face, but she feared one look would make his magical touch disappear.
She ached all over, wanted his hands to caress her everywhere, and she longed to touch him. She opened her legs as he straddled her. His hair brushed her naked chest as he began kissing her. His tongue was driving her crazy with desire as he placed tender kisses along her neckline. He brushed her hair aside.
His morning stubble stung her delicate skin, but she hungered for more. Just one more touch, just one more taste, and she would awaken from this wonderful dream and find herself in bed, all alone.
“Oh, Bree, baby. What you do to me,” he whispered, his voice husky.
That voice jerked her back to the present. The voice had haunted her dreams for
years. The voice of the man she just couldn’t seem to get over.
“Scott,” she whispered.
About the Author
The writing bug bit Lisa M. Owens at an early age; she was writing short stories and poetry by the age of seven. At the age of eight, she entered a writing contest at her elementary school. About fifty books were written, but Lisa was one of the thirteen writers chosen who received a certificate and the chance to meet Oklahoma writer Sandy Miller.
A former victim of domestic violence herself, Lisa worked at the courthouse for over seven years. Almost three of those years she worked on the Marriage License/Protective Order desk. She helped women file protective orders and worked closely with the staff and counselors at DVIS.
Frustrated with books that merely gloss over the subject of domestic violence, Lisa wanted to write a book that told the entire story. Her dream is for her words to help give someone the courage to leave an abusive relationship.
She resides in Oklahoma and has two children. This is her first published novel, and she is currently working on the next novel of her If Only series.
Lisa enjoys hearing from her readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 9643, Tulsa, OK 74157-0643, or by e-mail, She can also be contacted on her website,